


You Ran Away on my Watch

by Strength_in_pain



Series: John and his boys [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s05e16 Dark Side of the Moon, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, John Winchester and Sam Winchester Fight, Sam Winchester Runs Away, Scared John Winchester, Teen Dean Winchester, Teenchesters, Young Sam Winchester, Young Winchesters (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 17:46:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: A depiction of that scene during Dark Side of the moon where Sam ran away and when Dad got home...





	You Ran Away on my Watch

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Okay, here it is Dean’s Girl! The prompt you gave me about Flagstaff is finally done! I’m so excited to see what you all think. 
> 
> So, I had a lot of canon elements I was trying to keep with this. First, I had to figure out how this memory could be heaven for Sam and still horrible for Dean. How Sam never really knew what happened to his brother. Never even thought about it. Then, I had to think about why John would do something to Dean in the first place. Then I had to think how he would respond to Sam but it is still a good memory for Sam. Finally, I wanted to make sure I showed how Sam and John’s fights were about the ‘control thing’ and how Sam just wants to be normal. 
> 
> All things considered I think it’s pretty good with Canon. :)

> **You ran away on my watch...**
> 
> Dean 17, Sam 13. 

“Dad?” 

 

John looked up from the weapons he was cleaning and studied his youngest for a moment. “What?” 

 

“Can I go with the soccer team to Ocean City? Please, it’s summer and the coach is taking us.” 

 

John shook his head, “Sorry Sam, but no. I need you here. This hunt is important and you boys need to get caught up on research. Besides, you’re too young to go across the state alone.”

 

“I’ve been traveling since I was born! This is ridiculous.” Sam spluttered. “I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself.”

 

“You’re thirteen. You can’t even reach the top shelf in the cupboard.” 

 

“It’s not fair. Everyone else is going. Their parents let them.” 

 

John sighed. He and Sam have already had numerous arguments over how he is being treated differently than his peers, particularly the soccer team. They spend a whole Saturday arguing about a curfew. Sam thought it was so unfair since none of his friends had a curfew. The whole team apparently threw a lot of parties and Sam was invited to one, but John declined because it was starting at 1am and lasting all night. He told Sam he was too young to stay all night by himself. 

 

“But your my child, so I get to decide the rules.” 

 

“I didn’t ask to be your child. I wish I wasn’t!” Sam screamed without thinking, but he didn’t regret it. Honestly, at times he didn’t want to be part of his family. 

 

John knew his youngest was angry, but the words hurt and it made John think of all the ways he was failing his children. Dean just wanted a home and John couldn’t even provide that. Still he had to remember he had his reasons. His boys will be safer this way. 

 

“I’m sorry Sam. But it’s final. You’re not going.” John said firmly, turning back to clean his weapons. He couldn’t stand to see the disappointment and hatred in Sam’s eyes. 

 

But Sam did something he hasn’t done since he was eight years old. He stomped out of the room and lashed out with his foot, kicking the wall in frustration. The sound of Sam's sneakered foot connecting with the skirting board caused John to raise his head just in time to see the boy aim a second kick, only this time, Sam missed and kicked the large, ornate lamp that stood next to the doorway. It fell with an almighty crash, the decorative glass shattering on impact. Sam stared in horror at what he had done – this house didn't belong to some impersonal, uninterested landlord, no, it was someone's home and that lamp might have meant a lot to them.

John was by his son's side in an instant, worried about the flying glass. "Are you hurt, Sammy?" He gave his errant child a visual once over.

Sam shook his head. "No, Dad. I'm really sorry."

"You will be in a minute," responded John grimly, taking hold of Sam's wrist and pulling him over to one of the two large, comfortable leather sofas in the room.

Sam wondered vaguely if his dad was referring to the fact that he'd be sorry in a minute or hurt in a minute – the teen had the unwelcome feeling that both would apply.

John seated himself and pulled his youngest over his lap, wasting no time before  swatting the denim-clad rear in front of him. He lectured as he spanked.

"You do not have a temper tantrum and kick things like a three-year-old when you don't get your own way, Samuel Winchester!"

"Hey!” Sam squeaked, throwing a hand back to protect himself. “I didn’t mean to, okay?” 

"Break the lamp? Oh, I know you didn't mean to do that, but that's not the point. Life isn't fair, we can't always get what we want and you need to learn to accept that." John lectured. 

Sam growled deep in his throat, so well he actually resembled an angry bear. But John ignored him, and moved his hand, continuing his quick onslaught. 

John wasn’t planning on making this a harsh spanking – he understood why Sam was disappointed and he also knew that breaking the lamp had been unintentional. With this in mind, he gave one final slap to the boy’s thigh then stopped. 

John lifted Sam up, and bore the fierce glower his youngest sent him. The kid was seething with anger as he towered over John, who was still sitting on the couch. 

“Why do I even try?” Sam asked, throwing his arms up to the sky, “Why can’t you just give me up for adoption. I’d be happier somewhere else.” 

“Sam, don’t talk like that.”

“Stop bossing me around. I can’t stand you and your stupid orders sometimes. I mean, God, we are not your soldiers. We’re your freaking kids! And this isn’t a damn war. It’s just a plot for stupid revenge.”

Sam’s pretty sure his Dad mumbled something about how he has no idea how much of a war this is. Confused and frustrated, Sam continued his ranting. 

“Why do you have to be so mean anyway? All I wanted to do was spend time with my friends and you won’t even let me do that.” 

“Do you not understand the importance of what I do? Do you not want to save lives?”

“Oh don’t you do that. Don’t you go throwing that speech in my face. You’ve been using it on me since I was like nine. And you know what, Dad? It’s not going to work this time. I shouldn’t have to worry about saving someone’s life. Normal kids don’t have have to worry about saving lives. It’s not my responsibility. I don’t want it to be!” 

“Well that’s too bad, Sam. Because that doesn’t change the truth. You and I know things that other people don’t and we have to use that ability to save -“

“Why? Why do we HAVE to? Where is it written that we HAVE to?” 

“It was written on your nursery ceiling in your mother’s own blood, when a fucking bastard decided to burn her alive and destroy our family.” John seethed, standing so fast, Sam flinched back at the sudden movement. 

Eyeing is father, Sam shook his head, tears beginning to well-up in his eyes as he loses the battle once again, “I didn’t ask for that to happen. It’s not fair.”

“Neither did I. But it happened. And it sucks. And like it or not, this is our life now.” 

“But it doesn’t have to be. We can still be normal. Other kids lose their parents and move on with their lives. They grieve, and they heal. They don’t spend years obsessed with finding their killer. That’s not healthy, Dad.”

“This is about family, son. It’s about how no man or creature can kill your mother and get away with it. It’s about going to the ends of the earth to put things right. And if that means we sacrifice everything to do it, then we sacrifice everything.”

“I don’t want to!” Sam blurted, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Well too bad because your my kid, like it or not, and this is what you’ll do.”

“I’m not doing this forever. I’d rather die than do this forever. In fact, you should just kill me now, and put me out of my misery.” 

“Oh, You are so over-dramatic.” John yelled. 

“Then why don’t you sell me into slavery and buy a new kid. One without a brain who will follow your orders without question.” 

“At least that kid would behave better than you!” 

“Good! Then I could get away from you and he could suffer in this hellish life.”

“Go to your room!” John screamed nearly stomping his feet. 

“I don’t have a room.” Sam screamed, “This is a freaking rental house.” 

John got up and dragged Sam by the upper-arm over to a bedroom and slammed the door. “You keep this attitude up and you can sleep out in the fucking rain tonight.” John screamed through the door 

“I’d rather do that than be with you.” Came the muffled response. Damnit. 

“Dad.” 

“Not now, Dean. I have to go out. I have a hunt that’s going to take me a few days and I need you to watch after your brother.” 

“Yes sir.” Dean said quietly. John caught him, out of the corner of his eye, walking towards the room where Sam was. 

“Leave him alone, Dean. He has to learn he can’t get everything he wants. And he can’t always have someone hold his hand when he’s upset. He needs to grow the hell up.”

Behind the door, Sam’s body was shaking with anger. He wiped his sleeve across his nose, trying to stop sniffling. _Why couldn’t his Dad see how much he was trying to grow up?_ That’s the whole reason he wanted to go with the team in the first place. But his Dad said he was too young. This whole situation was complete bull. 

“Come on Dad,” that was Dean. Sam almost laughed at his brother trying to diffuse the situation. Doesn’t he know by now it’s pointless. Maybe it worked when Sam was eight, but he’s not a little kid anymore. 

“No Dean!” It was a rough command. One Sam knew his brother would listen to. “He’s a complete brat, throwing a damn tantrum like a fucking four-year-old because he can’t hang out with his friends. If he wants to be a baby, you just leave him in time-out for the rest of the night.” 

Sam wanted to strangle his father. He was so angry he wanted to bash the walls in until his knuckles bled. 

Instead, he listened to his father’s typical going-away-speech. Lock the doors, put the salt down, bla bla bla. 

And that’s when a plan had begun to take root in Sam’s mind. If both Dad and Dean had been home, Sam would have never risked sneaking out, but with just Dean, he was sure he had a chance of succeeding. So he threw his backpack, where he kept his wallet, over his shoulders and opened his bedroom window. Sam paused, looking out into the warm summer night. If he does this, he’s dooming himself. His father would be furious... 

_Good_ , Sam thought scornfully, _I hope he’s as angry as he made me._

Without a second thought, Sam climbed out the window, running at full speed as soon as his feet hit the ground.

                        ______________________

For two days John had been faced with what he thought was a solid lead, what he thought would be the breakthrough he needed to get him that much closer to finding Mary's killer. A part of him believed,  _prayed,_  that tonight would be the night to end it all. 

He had hoped, but the bitter truth is it’s better not to wish, or  _hope_ , at all.

He got a call from Bobby a few weeks ago, informing him of a string of omens and signs of demonic activity. When he learned of a possible demon, he jumped at the opportunity to follow it, track it, hunt it. Get some bloody answers. So he left his boys two days ago to track this thing.

Tonight was the first time John had encountered an actual demon face to face. If nothing else, he learned tonight that demons are nasty sonsabitches and know how to hit you where it hurts. He's not sure how exactly, but the demon seemed to know how to breech his mental defenses and managed to reopen many old wounds and bring to light all the painful truths he'd worked so hard to suppress and deny.

It wore the body of a girl maybe a year or two older than Dean and somehow knew all the buttons to push. It pointed out how much Sammy was growing to hate him, resent him for the decisions he's made in their lives.

" _One day he's going to leave you, Johnny boy... switch sides,"_ it had taunted, " _and when he does, we'll be waiting for him."_

It taunted him with the truth that at seventeen, Dean was the responsible adult in the family and that he'll never feel like he's good enough for dear ol' daddy.

" _I think he's going to die for this family, because that's his job, isn't it?"_ the demon had grinned, a sick, twisted smile on its face,  _"You're raising him to be slaughtered—or that's what you're leading him to believe, aren't you?"_

John had tried to ignore the taunts, the declarations that one day his children are going to leave him, Sam's gonna run off to where they'll find him and turn him and Dean's going to throw himself in the line of fire all because of him and how he's raised them. He tried to tune it out, he did. Bobby had warned him that demons aim for where it hurts, that they know how to dig deep and expose ones darkest fears and regrets. "Ya can't let it get to ya or it'll destroy you," Bobby told him.

" _Probably a good thing, isn't it,"_ the demon had said, _"that Mary died before she can see what a bastard you really are."_

John managed to trap it, he tried to torture some solid answers out of it, but the black demonic smoke got away. It tore into the darkest corners of his soul and left it raw and open, and then it got away, leaving the body of a beautiful young teenage girl behind - dead. 

Blood was spilling from her mouth as she stared lifelessly at the sky. Her eyes unable to close. John did that to her. He didn’t mean to. He was trying to hurt the demon. For the first time in years, John lurched over and puked up everything in his stomach.

On the drive home, he can't erase the image of the girl, and he can't help but mix that image with Mary on the ceiling, the terror in her eyes before she burst into flames. It couldn't have been a coincidence that the demon chose a host that looked so much like Mary did at that age, because its sole purpose seemed to be to taunt, and hurt. And it did hurt, it hurt so bad. 

By the time he reaches the motel, it's late and he's exhausted.

The long drive managed to calm him down, but there is an achy numbness that's settled within him as the anger and pain retreats to the back of his mind. He tries not to think about what the demon said and instead tries to focus on seeing his boys. He's misses them. Always. But with the significance of the day, and the days events…he misses them more than ever. While deep down it hurts to think about how frequently he leaves them behind for a hunt, right now it doesn't matter. He's home. Home for John is where his boys are. Mary's boys.

He grabs his duffel and locks the Impala's door, wondering why the light is still on in their room. It's ridiculously late and Sammy and Dean should be asleep by now. He takes out his room key and opens the door and startles as Dean jumps up from where he was lying on the bed closest to the door like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Dad!" Dean exclaims in surprise, "You're back!" The kid looks as exhausted and stressed as John, dark circles under his eyes, looking a little thin. 

John feels irritation creep in as he notices how Dean is trying to hide something. “What is it?” John barked. “What happened.”

To John’s surprise Dean’s lip trembles, “Uh...”

“Where's Sammy?" John asks, his eyes drifting to the back of the room where the bathroom is, noticing the door open and the lights off.

Dean bows his head, “I…I looked everywhere, sir."

Suddenly John’s screaming, his voice is more angry and threatening than he’s ever heard himself sound. “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED.” 

Dean flinched violently, quickly taking several steps back, away from his father. “I’m sorry. He...he just left. He took of when I was sleeping, I think. When I woke up in the morning, he was gone. I’ve been looking ever since.” 

“You..” John laughs scarily, “you lost him?”

“No he left. I -“

“You what?!” John was livid, seeing red. This night could not be any worse. What a freaking nightmare. “I’ll tell you what you did, you disobedient little brat! You didn’t watch your brother like you were told. You disobeyed a direct order just like when you were nine and you left your brother alone so you could play some arcade games. Apparently family means nothing to you since you’re willing to just let your brother die.”

“Dad!”

“it’s fine, Dean -“

“It’s not like that.” Dean cried, “I tried to find him. But I don’t know where to look. I’m sorry he ran off, but it’s not really my fault.”

“Not your fault? Really? Well let’s see, were you in charge?”

“Yeah but -“

“You were in charge and you let your brother run off because you weren’t watching him.”

“What? Am I not allowed to sleep?” Dean immediately regretted his sassy attitude when his father moved so fast, Dean didn’t have time to react until he was back on the bed, his butt tingling from the trio of smacks his Dad had delivered with his hard right hand.

“M’sorry.” He mumbles, shifting uncomfortably. 

“I trusted you, and you let me down.” John says, slow and deliberate. Dean flinches, drops his gaze. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, Dean.” He leans purposely on his son’s name, puts a little mean into his voice.  
  
It’s an effort, but Dean lifts his body, lifts his chin, to meet John’s gaze steadily. His shoulders stiffen, then he straighten almost to attention, his fists pressed tight against the side seam of his jeans.   
  
“You don’t get to do this—“ John aims his finger hard at Dean’s chest, “—this  _shit_.” He’s suddenly incredibly angry. “Sammy needed you. Christ, Dean. All you had to do was give me a call.” 

He doesn’t tell Dean about the visions of blood and bone and twisted metal that he saw every time he closed his eyes tonight. He can’t.

“I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“More like you didn’t want an ass-beating. I can’t believe you. How could you be so stupid.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Dean made his final mistake. He should have never raised his voice like that because now John is grabbing his arm and twisting it, forcing Dean to spin around. The boy rises up on tiptoe, back arching as he struggles to remain upright. 

  
“Shit – for fuc—Dad!” Dean yells, fighting to free his wrist, and John just pulls it a fraction higher, presses it into the small of his back. Dean makes a small noise in the back of his throat, a soft broken-off almost yelp. 

Dean stills then; John feels the muscles in his arm slacken, the tension bleeding out of his spine. John doesn’t loosen his grip, though. Kid’s not dumb; he knows how to play possum. After all, he’s trained him well.

Dean lashes his foot back, sudden and vicious, but John’s ready for it. He deflects the kick with his knee, ignoring the wave of pain that instantly radiates from his kneecap. He sweeps Dean’s feet out from under him, using the boy’s momentum and lack of balance to send him tumbling towards the table.

It’s a messy tackle, roughly executed, and the kid goes down hard, his cheek colliding with the table top, the sharp snap of bone on wood clearly audible. Dean struggles to free himself, but John isn’t letting him up any time soon. 

Training aside, he can’t remember the last time he and Dean fought. Lately it’s been all about Sammy; his youngest has been kicking against him, testing him out to see how far it is to the edge of his temper. Not that long a journey, as it turns out.

 

“Dad.” Dean shifts under his hand. “Let me up.” He sounds angry, not apologetic.

John thinks that’s probably his own fault. Dean’s gotten used to being treated as an equal; kid’s forgotten about the chain of command. He looks down at his son, cheek crushed against the table top, dark splotches of freckles inked over his pale face. Lips pressed together in a thin tight line.

Before he’s fully processed the action, John swings his arm, slapping his palm down onto Dean’s ass, the sound echoing in the kitchen like a gunshot. 

Dean jumps under his grip. “Christ! Dad—just—” John cuts him off, landing a second blow, hard enough that Dean scoots forward, his knee cracking on the table leg. 

“Shit!” Dean has enough sense this time to whisper the obscenities, but he doesn’t submit, doesn’t stop fighting.

“Stay down,” John spits through clenched teeth, yanking Dean’s arm up between his shoulder blades, applying a little more pressure. He draws his arm back again, swats harder, his palm tingling. 

 

John thinks he can’t stop. Every once of fear, pain, and anguish he’s felt tonight was coming out at once. He was hurting Dean because of the dead girl, because of the loss of his Mary, and because of Sammy. Because he was gone. John had lost him just like the demon said, and it was all his fault. It wasn’t Dean’s fault, it was his. But he couldn’t stop taking it out on the kid. He just needed some type of release. 

 

“Dad, please.” 

John releases Dean’s wrist, takes a step back. God what was he doing. If anyone deserves to be punished it’s Sam. But John doesn’t want to punish anyone. He just wants to find the demon that killed Mary and then die himself.   
  
Dean straightens slowly, cautiously, almost as if he’s waiting for John to start in on him again.   
  
When Dean turns around to face them, John sees a red mark just below his eye, tracing across the top of his cheekbone. It’ll be a bruise tomorrow.  
  
John shakes out his hand, then presses it to his own thigh, the residual heat there burning through his jeans.   
  
“Dean,” he says, and reaches out to settle his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Dean ducks out from under his grip, the movement so slight it’s barely perceptible. He stands, just out of John’s reach, eyes bright with unshed tears. Waiting to be dismissed.  
  
John scrubs his hand over his face. “Go on, get in the car son,” he orders, and Dean relaxes visibly, sags like a broken puppet.   
  
The boy cringes past him, cowering like a whipped pup. He turns in the doorway, bites down on his lip, unable to meet John’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Just—” John shakes his head, sighs quietly. “Just—don’t let it happen again, okay?”   
  
“Yes, sir,” he whispers, and then he’s gone, waiting for him in the car. 

                   ______________________

Sam woke up to the sound of a dog panting. He smiled to himself as the dog licked his cheeks. 

“Bones!” Sam giggled. He sat up and kissed the golden retriever on his head. “Who’s a good boy. You are.”  Sam cooed, ruffling the hair around his neck. 

He stood up to see the empty bottles of Mr. Pibb laying all round the floor. Normally his Dad would have a fit over this, but his Dad wasn’t around. Dean wasn’t around. For once, no one was ordering him around like a little solider boy. He was free!

“What do you want me to bring back from the vending machine? More Funyuns? That’s what I was thinking.” 

Sam opened the front door to the tiny abandoned cabin he was staying at in flagstaff, which was surprisingly in good condition. He was about to take a walk with bones into town so he could buy some chips with the remaining money he had, when an all too familiar black Chevy Impala tore up the dirt road. Shit. It was two fantastic days before he was caught. He was hoping the freedom would last just a little while longer. 

The car didn’t even come to a complete stop and John was opening the door. Sam’s blood went cold, his hair standing on ends. This was going to be bad. So so bad. 

“What the hell were you thinking’?” John screamed, racing up him. Quickly, Sam spun on his heels and ran inside, slamming the door behind him. Well - he tried to slam the door - but his Dad beat him too it and stopped it from closing. 

“Don’t you walk away when I’m talking to you.” 

Sam jerked back from the wide opened door and the angry beast that was his father. They were both standing within two feet of one another, both on edge. Unfortunately for Sam, John had the upper hand here considering he was bigger. 

“I wanna know why you thought it was a good idea to run away. And you’ve got two seconds to explain yourself before I -“

“Before you what!” Sam roared, an unexpected amount of energy pulsing through his veins, giving him the courage to lash out. “Kick my ass? Force me to do training drills? Control me? You already do that all the fucking time!” 

“You little brat.” John said shaking his head. He took a step forward. “You are a selfish,” another step, “ungrateful” step, “little brat.”

Sam glared hard, “At least I’m not an asshole who hurts everyone he cares about.” 

“Sam -“

“I mean, you always do this. You come into town for a few weeks, make all of these promises, and just when I think we’re actually gonna get close you take off again. Or you pick a fight with me.”

“You pick a fight with me kid.” 

“You’re doing it right now!” 

“Listen to your tone. You’ve been screaming at me since I got here.” John explained. 

“All I wanted to do was hang out with my friends but you wouldn’t let me. Come on, Dad. You were gone for two weeks before. I could have been with my friends and I would have been fine.” 

“You don’t know that. Listen, there is so much you don’t know.” 

“Stop treating me like a baby.”

“You are a baby! You’re thirteen. You can’t drive, you don’t shave, have you even hit puberty yet?”

Sam let out a squeak of embarrassment, “I hate you!” 

“Yeah, well I’m not too fond of you right now either.” 

“Good then just leave me here.” 

“You wanna stay here? You really want to stay here?” 

“Yes.” 

John spun of his heals and started to stride back to the car. Sam watched with curiosity, but he didn’t dare move. If his father really was leaving him here, he didn’t want to screw that amazing opportunity up. 

Soon enough the impala sped off, leaving a giant cloud of dust behind. Once again, Sam was alone. 

Well it was fun. Sam’s not going to lie, it was fun...but he kinda ran out of money and he did miss Dean. So he was eating some healthy plants he read about and watching the same TV over and over. Bones was very entertaining, but he wasn’t Dean. Still, Sam has sometime to prove. He would rather live on his own than swallow his pride and walk back home to his father. Actually, he didn’t even know where his father was. He could be in another state by now. Okay, so that thought scared Sam a little. 

At night, he heard a scratching noise on the window and his heart leapt out of his chest. He put salt down and stayed awake the rest of the night. 

Two weeks passed before John Winchester pulled back into the drive way. “You ready to come home.” He asked once Sam was standing on the porch. 

“No.”

John slammed his hand on the dashboard. “Alright.” He said, stepping out of the car, “that’s it. You’re coming home whether you want to or not.” 

“Typical.” Sam spat. 

Surprisingly, his Dad still seemed to be very pissed. Sam had cooled off a bit, but apparently his Dad hadn’t. 

He yanked Sam by his shirt collar and dragged him to the car. Digging his feet into the ground, Sam tried to stop him.

John simply picked him up over his shoulder and carried him to the car. 

“No, Dad, wait! What about Bones. I can’t just leave him here. Please.” 

“That dog was a stray to begin with Sam. He’ll be fine.”

“At least let me take him to another family.” Sam pleaded. 

“Fine. Put him in the car and if he sheds or scratches anything it’s coming out of your hide.” 

                ____________________________

“Hi Dad, is he -“

“He’s right here, Dean.” John tossed him the keys, “Go pick up something to eat.”

“Chinese?” Dean asked. 

“That’s fine. Oh and if it smells like dog, blame your brother. He’s the reason we were gone all damn day.” 

“At least bones will be happy. He has an actual loving family, a normal family.” 

“Cut the bull, Sam. I am so sick of you whining about how life isn’t perfect.” 

“Dad -“ It was Dean. “Don’t be too hard on him.”

“Go. now.” John ordered. 

“Oh look there goes your perfect solider, obeying your commands. I guess you expect me to be like that too, huh? And you think kicking my ass will make me listen to you? But it won’t.” 

“I expect you to listen to me because I feed your ass. I clothe your ass. And I teach your ass how to stay alive in a crazy, screwed up world. So if you don’t want to end up starved, naked or dead, I suggest you listen to me.” 

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “I was doing fine without you.” 

“Yeah,” John scoffed, “right.”

“I was. I stayed alive for two weeks.” 

“And how hungry are you?” 

Sam looked down at his feet. He didn’t feel like answering that one. 

“Okay Sam. Here’s how I see it. If you runaway from me or your brother you are in big trouble. I don’t care how angry you were, you scared the hell out of me. You have no idea what it’s like, as a father, to know one of your kids is missing and not know where the hell they are. I was so scared... and Dean... well Dean was scared too.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam mumbled, “but I wanted you to be scared and angry. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me.” 

“Well congratulations. You succeeded. But these little stunts you pulled aren’t helping you. Trust me kid, you’re not going anywhere with any friends, any time soon. In fact, your not allowed to leave the motel room with me or Dean for three weeks.” 

Sam groaned, “are you kidding me!” Then he started to relax, “never mind. I never go out anyway. You rarely let me spend time with my friends and I’ll still get to go to school. So it’s basically how it always is. Nice punishment, Dad.” 

“Like I said, this is not helping your ability to spend time on your own. I’m not letting you out of my sight until you start showing me I can trust you. You need to start showing me you’ve grown up.” 

“I am -“

“Grown ups don’t runaway from their problems. They have to deal with it. And they don’t throw tantrums. And if they did, they would have to face the consequences. Like getting fired. Or in a hunters case, getting dead.” 

“Fine.” Sam huffed. 

“No TV, no books, no cards, and no board games for three weeks.” 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Stare at a wall and think about what you did.” 

“Dammit Dad! I hate you.” 

“That’s fine. It’s not my job to be liked. It’s my job to raise you right.” 

“I’ll die of boredom.” 

“Don’t worry. You can do your homework, that will keep you busy. And with all that spare time you can focus on training.” 

“What about when we’re in the car. Can I please listen to my Walkman?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” John mumbled, sitting down at the cabin’s table. 

He had bought a cabin right next to where Sam was staying so he could keep an eye on the kid, especially at night. He had to kill a skin walker one night, but other than that, Sam was safe. John made sure of it. 

“There’s one last thing.” John said patting his knee. 

Sam looked completely dejected. He whined a quiet no. 

“Not up for debate, son. You wanted to act like a toddler and throw a tantrum. Then you decided to scare the hell out of me by running away. So now I’ve gotta make you hurt as much as you made me. Right? Isn’t that what you said you were trying to do?”

Sam bit his lip, but had long given up the fight. He was exhausted and honestly, he expected this. All he wanted was for this part to be over so he could eat a nice warm dinner with Dean. He couldn’t wait to talk to his brother again. So Sam came without a fight. 

“Get it over with.” He mumbled, going to lay across his Dad’s lap. But John stopped him. 

“Never mind, Sam. It’s alright. I think three weeks grounding is enough.” 

Truthfully, the fight had left John as well. He was tired. So tired of correcting Sam. It felt like all he ever did was whip him. And after what he did to Dean, John wasn’t ready to do that again. He still needed to make things right with his eldest. But Dean had brushed it off and they never brought it up again. Just another incident that was buried. 

Same as this one. They’re never mentioning flagstaff again. 


End file.
